the mindbody problem
by hymenated
Summary: Your name is Byakuran Gesso and you are not born into the mafia. Some things are preventable and others are just inevitable.
1. Chapter 1

future pairings include; Shouichi/Spanner, Byakuran/Spanner, Byakuran/Shouichi, Shouichi/Byakuean/Spanner.

I don't own Reborn!

* * *

**the mind-body problem**

There are often things in your world that you find great excitement in. You are fond of sweet things; food, drinks, movies, people. You like surprises more than you like predictability. You often chase away boredom through odd methods; such as, while studying, you decide that flying a kite is a suitable alternative. These are things locked deep within your core and they don't change; no matter how old you'll get.

It is easy for a person to become twisted; an event, a person, a phrase – little things can trigger big reactions. Power can corrupt a person. It's a lesson the universe has learned from you-

-but you will never know this. Not now.

* * *

It starts like this: you are not born into the mafia. Your father owns a chain of stores in Europe, which are dedicated to photography. You grow up in comfort, listening to the stories your mother tells you of happy ever afters, enjoying the money your father has earned. Your life is normal.

You go to school, you make friends and you do well. You play soccer almost every day after school,)under the skies of Italy. As a child, you had wanted to do it professionally; you had thought it a plausible career. You're good at it, like you are at most things.

You grow up under the sun, a ball at your feet, money in your hand and stories in your heart. You like your friends well enough, but you know that people go and friends change and one day, you'll be playing soccer with friends and you'll be older and they'll all have different faces.

You wonder briefly what kind of person that makes you.

* * *

Life is normal and you can't imagine it any other way.

You love old mafia films. The old American films, with their loyalty, betrayal and passion. You're father scoffs at the very notion of them.

You find them oddly romantic.

* * *

One day you're ten years old, kicking a ball around. The next you're fifteen, sitting in your room with a textbook lying across your face. You're bored of Italy, bored of its sun, its promise of romance. Your head is against your wall, hands gripping the edges of your book. You want to study; you have plans to get away from this place, to go somewhere else, but you just can't concentrate.

You're five seconds away from throwing the book across the room when you receive a text message. The number is unknown, but you're friends are always changing their numbers. Without a second thought, you read it.

In another world, this is the moment where your life changes forever. In this world—

* * *

For three months, you have this ability: this ability to see into other worlds. It hurts, but it's so fascinating and new and you wonder if you're maybe losing your mind, maybe just hearing voices or hallucinating. They say that there are stages to madness, signs leading up to a climax; all of this is sudden.

You know things about people that you hadn't before. You know things that will happen before they do. It's exhilarating; you're special now. No one else can do this. No one but you.

You excel suddenly at school more than you ever had; know questions, know the things you need to study before everyone else. You know which friends talk about you behind your back, which people like you, who's crushing on you, who's been dabbling in drugs and who's been sleeping around – you know all of it before anyone else.

It's like you're the most powerful person in the world.

* * *

And then it's gone, as though you never had it in the first place. Years later, you'll question if you ever did. In that moment though, the moment where you're suddenly so lonely, so un-connected, your mother notices a change.

A year in therapy convinces you it was a childish game, a last attempt at seeking attention before adulthood. You are a selfish person, you can't deny that maybe there's some truth in it all; maybe you did just make it all up.

You can't understand though, why you still feel so lonely; like you've lost something incredibly important.

* * *

They say high school is a bubble of naivety; a place in the middle between childhood and adulthood where you test the waters of your future, where you make big decisions and make big mistakes.

For you, high school is this:

In your first year, you secure a group of friends, some of them you've known since childhood. All of them are athletic, some of them are smart. You make an impression on your teachers from the beginning and continue to do so until the day you graduate.

In your third year, you get your first girlfriend. She's a tall brunette with glasses; in later years you'll remember that she loved reading more than anything and that her favourite food was an Italian dish called _Pomodori col Riso_. You sleep with her after two months of dating – you break it off two weeks later.

In your last year, you sleep with one of your best friends; a gorgeous blond who's on your soccer team. You graduate with the second best results in your class and the knowledge you have at least five Universities to choose from, four of which are all in Europe, the fifth being a 'what if' choice in America.

You make the decision to succeed your dad in his business almost as an afterthought.

* * *

You're sitting alone one night, reading through your acceptance letters with a bemused smile on your face. They came almost a week ago and you've been feigning indecision ever since.

The truth is, you aren't quite sure how to break it to your parents that you've already accepted the offer from America or that you've started to make preparations for your accommodation. Quietly, you fold the letters and slide them under your bed and then lie back, arms folded behind your head. You close your eyes and you think about whether or not you'll regret this decision. You don't think you will, at least not in your first year.

You fall asleep, smiling like you usually do and promise yourself to tell your parents tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.

* * *

Your mother starts crying and your father grasps your shoulder firm and you smile and smile and assure them you'll be fine on your own.

You don't tell any of your friends until three months later; you're standing at the airport, your mother kissing your face and your father checking in your luggage; you send out a mass text and then quietly turn your phone off. When you're through security, you don't even look at the phone as you trash it.

* * *

Some things never change.

Your first year goes by quickly. You sign up for clubs and you pledge to the fraternity that looks the most fun but also has the most connections and maybe they're all shallow choices but what does it matter? Life is about winning now and you hate being the loser.

Mostly it's a blur of studystudystudy and the electric thrum of nightlife; everything is so normal and so typically first year. Typical, typical, typical and you thrive on it for a while and then you crash. You don't go home in the summer between the end of first year and the beginning of second. Instead you book a flight and you go to Russia, Hungry, Norway- anywhere but Italy. Your mother calls and calls always asking why, are you alright? You don't know why but you're fine.

* * *

It's your third year when things start to shift around in your spectrum of what life is and what it isn't. You remember your grandmother saying things like feeling change in the air; you think she might have had the right the idea. The moment you step onto campus, there's just something different. It makes your stomach clench and flip and summersault.

You hold on to that feeling for five weeks until it comes bursting out on a Thursday afternoon.

It all happens a bit like this:

You're 3 nil down in a soccer game against another fraternity when you get passed the ball. You dribble with it and lift your leg back and then shoot with all your might-

Except the ball doesn't go in the goal; it flies over the top and soars and soars until it connects with the shoulder of a red haired boy. You snort to yourself as he stumbles and all his books topple to the ground – his friend, a blond taller than him, bends down to pick up the ball and you snort again and start to jog towards them.

"Sorry!" you call, waving them down. "Sorry!"

The blond is smirking down at his friend and he turns towards you and this is a moment you think you'll remember for a while. It's like recognition sweeps across his face, which is odd because you've never met (though your hands feel sweaty and that's strange, isn't it?), his eyebrows raise and his friend sort of gasps and he gives you the ball back, abruptly. "It's cool," he says. "Shouichi – hurry. We're late."

You spare a glance down at Shouichi and your stomach clenches and drops and it's the most bizarre thing. You watch them walk away, ball under your arm and a hand resting against your stomach. Your face must be a picture, you're sure; your mind races with all sorts of things until you shake yourself out whatever _this _is and turn and jog back to your game.

* * *

_There are moments of fate that seem to keep happening in Shouichi and Spanner's lives. For example, Shouichi expresses a nostalgic desire to study in America. This is in despite of everything that's happened. Or what would have happened- and really, their lives are overly complicated, Spanner thinks. _

_Tsuna, always the ever-helpful boss and friend, just so happens to need a man in the States to keep an eye on their drug trade. What happens is that Tsuna pays for Shouichi to go and then pays again for Spanner to go the year after – it's not without warning, though. The 'be careful' lingers more in Shouichi's mind than it does in Spanner's. Two years at this university go by and it's a place Shouichi finds painfully nostalgic and megalomaniac free – and then the soccer incident happens. _

_It's Spanner who notices the incoming ball first but even then it's too late; it hits Shouichi with enough force that he stumbles back and drops all of his books to the ground. Spanner picks the ball up, eyes and mouth unyielding in his amusement at Shouichi's expense; picking up his books and regaining his dignity isn't something Shouichi can do unflustered, after all. There are calls of "sorry! Sorry!" and Spanner turns to throw the ball towards whoever is calling and stops smiling as soon as he sees the figure jogging towards them. _

_The thing is, Byakuran is unmistakeable and Spanner thinks for a second that he should block Shouichi's view but then he hears Shouichi suck in a breath and knows that would have been a stupid idea anyway. Byakuran is five years younger than what he remembers; all apologetic laughter and easy going posture. Spanner passes him the ball and ignores the way his hands tremble. "It's cool," he says. "Shouichi – hurry. We're late."_

_He doesn't think he's ever felt so anxious in his life. It's not a feeling he wants to repeat. _

_Byakuran holds the ball, looking somewhat perplexed at their retreating forms, but Spanner focuses on Shouichi's hisses of "what is he doing here?" and "two years – how had I not known?"_

_By the time they're back at the apartment, it takes all of Spanner's strength to wrestle the phone out of Shouichi's hand and stop him from calling Tsuna. "Don't cause unnecessary trouble," Spanner says, calm radiating from him. _

"_Spanner-"_

"_He's just a college student. He hasn't done anything yet."_

"_How can you say that, you know exactly what he-"_

_It's the by this point that Spanner sighs and sits down. "If you call Tsuna, Vongola will be all over this place by tomorrow night. He's harmless, probably. Relax before you give yourself an aneurism. We'll keep an eye on him, see how that goes."_

"_Right," Shouichi drawls, all sarcasm with his brows drawn together, "because I judged his character so well last time."_

_Spanner snorts. He's said more today than he ever has in a week and all this chaos is annoying and- _

"_I'm going to my room," he says, sliding a lollipop into his mouth, suddenly craving the simplicity of mechanics._

_

* * *

_

You lie awake that night and wonder if this is fate. Or maybe that's too philosophical. It's definitely something though; it's new and confusing and wonderful. On the floor lies mountains of finished essays and half attentive notes – you idly look around your room, your chest feeling tight and you turn on your side.

Change is always something you've invited in with open arms; you intend to embrace it this time too.


	2. Chapter 2

warnings, this chapter: budding bromance, Spanner has an identity crisis for like five seconds, passive aggressive trolls, panicking red heads, immortal trolls in disguise or something like that, Byakuran's epic adventures in his fraternity that aren't actually all that epic, Spanner is a state of undress, Shouichi in a state of undress, swearing.

x-posted to LJ and beta'd by Phil, who is wonderful and who makes fun of me in beautiful ways because I miss out words and stuff. Any mistakes are mine.

* * *

**the mind-body problem**

chapter two:

_It's the cold surface of the steel that calms Spanner down in the end; it's not that his emotions ever run higher than mild shock, but nonetheless Byakuran's face **had** shook him out of his every day comfort zone. He works in silence, lollipop clenched between his teeth and he concentrates on tweaking and he thinks so much about what parts go where, that it all starts to get muddled up in his head and that's when he stops. Because this never happens; Spanner never gets confused about anything to do with robots and machines. Frustration snakes around him like a foreign chain, all binding and constricting and jamming up the natural flow of how he works. He sighs, rubbing a gloved thumb against his brow. His tools drop onto the floor and with a brief, sardonic thought, he think Shouichi's temper tantrums might be rubbing off on him._

_It's not like him; he realizes, to let this bother him- but then, it's not **Byakuran** himself that's bothering him. It's that he didn't **know**, that **Shouichi** didn't know he was here. Long ago, back when the memories from the Spanner that he could have been were fresh and new and were a puzzle of opportunities waiting to be cracked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Spanner had assumed that the Vongola would simply just take Byakuran out – but they hadn't. It's an odd thing, Spanner thinks, that Tsuna even let them come here; did he even know about this; about the possible time bomb playing soccer outside in the court?_

_The frustrated curses from the living room are what really shake him out if it; why should he care, really? Byakuran and him - there had never been any real history between them, not like with him and Shouichi. _

_Breathing comes easily as he cracks the lollipop with his teeth and discards the stick on the floor and lies back on his bed. What's really bothering him in all of this is the knowledge that Shouichi will make things ridiculously complicated while he fights within himself to watch Byakuran or avoid him. Spanner can already feel the headache that will come along with it, and so in this moment while he is alone, he makes a decision himself._

_

* * *

_

There's an on-going fight happening in your fraternity between some high strung senior and a cocky freshman. You're fairly sure it's over a girl, or something as equally stupid and petty – you don't care, but the tension and atmosphere they've created is enough to make even you begin to lose your temper. At first it was somewhat funny; now it's downright irritating.

You avoid the house as much as you can all week; you attend all three of your lectures and tutorials on all the days you have them, and take to eating inside the university grounds at lunch and actually studying in the library until the nice, petite woman asks you to leave. In actuality, it's driving you just the slightest bit crazy.

It goes on into the next week and on the Monday and you're sitting eating lunch outside, highlighting pages of a book you've borrowed from one of the involved. He has OCD, you remember, about keeping things in pristine condition. You smile to yourself as you highlight in bright orange, each stroke a deep, wonderful satisfaction. So engrossed in it are you, that you barely notice the figure sitting itself down in front of you. It's the shadow they cast across your book that makes you look up and the blond from the week before is sitting in front of you.

His eyes are wide but his eyebrows are a little bit drawn together; a lollipop hangs from his mouth and he just looks at you for what seems like forever before he finally takes the lollipop out of his mouth. "Hi," he says smoothly and the lollipop is instantly back in its place.

You blink once and then sit up straighter. You say, "Hello~," and raise your own eyebrows and smile, vaguely amused. "Can I help you?"

He watches you again, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. Eventually he shrugs and makes himself comfortable. "Maybe. I'm Spanner."

"Byakuran," you say after a brief moment of hesitation. This, you think after another moment of silence passes, might just be the most awkward few minutes of your life. "So, what can I do for you Spanner?"

Spanner shrugs again and glances down at your books, raises an eyebrow and smiles a small amused smile, then looks back up at you with the corners of his lips twitched upwards. "You were sitting by yourself," he says, "it surprised me a little."

"Why's that?"

He presses his lollipop against his bottom lip and shrugs. "You seemed like a popular guy the other day."

Your snort a little and shrug yourself. "Maybe I just wanted some alone time, hm~?"

"Maybe."

At that, you actually laugh and his questioning look only makes you laugh all the more. "You don't talk to people much, do you Spanner?" you ask finally, grinning.

He hesitates, just the briefest second, before answering. "Not usually."

"Why me, hm?"

He points his lollipop at you. "You interest me and Shouichi."

"Hmm, Shouichi is?"

There's a brief, tiny moment where you notice his eyes narrow and then set themselves right again. He presses the lollipop back against his bottom lip and he seems so genuinely amused by you that you're not sure whether you should be offended or not. Finally, he says, "he's the red head you hit with the soccer ball," and slides the lollipop back inside after it.

It's then you realise how much time you've spent just looking at his face – and abruptly make a point to look elsewhere. You slide your gaze towards the side and think back. You remember wide, brown eyes and messy red hair and books lying everywhere. "The Japanese boy, right?" you murmur, moving your eyes to his shirt. It's green and frightfully plain, and from this one conversation you think it rather suits him. "I remember him, vaguely. I thought it was weird he had red hair." You narrow your eyes, smirk and lean forward. "Is he a natural redhead, Spanner~?"

Spanner doesn't even hesitate. "Yea, I think so."

You know he understood the innuendo behind the question, because he's still half smirking. You start laughing and push forward your bag of marshmallows and ask him what he's studying. You spend the rest of lunch coaxing information out of him until you have his phone number and apartment address.

Overall, it's an unlikely friendship but Spanner's a welcome, refreshing change from the bustling life of your house.

* * *

Later, you see him walking with the redhead – Shouichi, you remind yourself – and you wave at him briefly when you catch his eye. He's dressed in green overalls and his arms are full of metal, and he nods once. Shouichi looks at him abruptly and you see him wince and then they walk away. The piece of paper with his phone number and address is still in your pocket. You yourself are on your way back home, book bag filled with defaced textbooks.

The house is partially empty when you get back and you wonder if there's a party on that you've forgotten about. A few of the freshman look up at you with wide, wide eyes and you smile at them on your way to your room. You pass by the high strung senior's room and empty your bag's contents on the floor outside of his door. Humming to yourself, you keep on walking and slip inside your own room silently.

You know it's an almost certainty that the senior is going to blow up at you tomorrow morning – or really, whatever time he stumbles in at. So when you're sleeping that night, the assault on your bedroom door isn't so much of a surprise as it is an extreme annoyance. You open your eyes slowly and clench your fist and plaster a smile on your face.

Your covers end up on the floor as you stumble out of bed and towards the door. The knocking is loud and obnoxious and god, you haven't felt your temper slip away like this in a while. You suck in a breath and open the door before the high strung senior has another chance to punch it. "Ryan~," you sing cheerfully, voice thick with sleep, "It's 3am you know~!"

Ryan's face is contorted with rage and his pupils are so dilated you wonder if he's just drunk. "The fuck did you do to my books, Gesso?" he slurs out, mouth pulled back into a snarl. It's extremely unattractive and you scrunch your nose up a little but keep smiling.

"I used them to study~."

"You little shit, you fucking destroyed them!"

You narrow you eyes and lean against the doorframe. "Did I~?"

The punch flies at you almost instantly and you just barely dodge it. You let out a small laugh and catch his next punch with both your hands and grin at him widely. "Listen up, Ryan," you murmur, twisting his arm, forcing him to turn around, "you woke me up, you know~? I was having a really nice dream too~! And now you've made me mad, but I know you wouldn't dare do this sober, so I'm going to forgive you. This is just a little lesson ok~? For the next time you have a temper tantrum." You hold his wrist firmly with one hand and place the other on his shoulder blade and twist and pull until you feel something pop and Ryan howls and shrieks with agony. You let him fall to the fall and hum quietly under your breath and press your foot against his back and kick. "Now, why don't you get yourself to the hospital and then think about what you've done~."

You close the door with a bang and stumble back towards your bed and fall in un-gracefully. You reach for your covers lazily and half-heartedly pull them over yourself and then roll over, letting out a quiet, satisfied smile, the sound of Ryan's arm cracking in your memory lulling you to sleep.

* * *

There's a murmur in the hall when you finally make an appearance the next morning. Boys from every year huddled up in groups, gossiping among themselves like the old women in the marketplace back home in Italy. You zip your jacket up and flash them all a smile and revel in the uneasy frowns the give you.

"Ryan's been kept in overnight," you hear someone whisper on your way out the door. Wonderful, you think cheerfully as you descend down the steps. There's going to be repercussions later, you think fleetingly, shoving your hands into your pockets. Ryan will want to save his manhood and really – you just can't be bothered with him or any of the others anymore.

* * *

Spanner doesn't live in student accommodation. You know this because the address on the wrinkled, ripped piece of paper is at least a mile away from the student dorms. You walk there in relative peace, the streets surprisingly quiet for a weekday morning. What's more surprising about Spanner and Shouichi and their off campus apartment, is that it isn't some small shabby thing like you expect. The building is big, new and in an area you know _of_ but have never been _to_. You double check the address and then walk towards the building and hum quietly under your breath and press the buzzer.

There's a full two minutes of silence before the little speaker comes to life with crackling noises and then a huff of breath. "Yea?" a monotone voice asks and you imagine Spanner probably had to drag himself to answer the buzzing.

You chuckle and lean against the door. "Haha, you sound so disheveled Spanner~. Did I interrupt something?"

"Byakuran?" There's the sound of more rustling and then, "nah. Not really. What's up?"

"Do you mind if I come up? I need somewhere to hide for a few hours. I had a little... accident, last night~."

"... Accident. Right," Spanner says, voice holding a vague unbelieving note to it, and then there's the audible sound of the door clicking open. "You know what floor it is right?"

"Mhmm~."

"The door will be open when you get up."

* * *

Spanner lives on the second floor from the top; there are only two doors on the floor, both a wide distance apart. You glance at the opposite door and then at Spanner's and quirk your lips upwards and let out a little breathless whistle. This floor? It's the same as all the others, except all the others had five doors and it's not a small building _at all _and as you knock twice on the door you wonder just how two students living abroad can afford this; nothing about them had screamed "hello! We are obscenely rich!"

You push the door open gently and peek your head around before cautiously stepping inside. You hesitate at the door before slipping your shoes off and glance around what you guess is the living area. It's big and connects directly into the kitchen and you almost laugh at the jackets thrown carelessly over the couch and the bits and pieces of metal littering the coffee table. It's fitting. "Spanner~?" you call out, stepping into the room more, heading towards the kitchen. "I got the right apartment, right~?"

You hear a grunt and turn around and Spanner stumbles out of the bathroom, hair askew and his jeans riding low on his hips. "Sorry, had to- you know," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair and gesturing to the room he's just come from. Bathroom, you think, smirking. "What's up?"

You snicker at his disheveled appearance and walk back to the couches and fall down onto one, shrugging. "There was... an incident last night. I had to get away for a little bit."

Spanner sits opposite you and reaches onto the table for a lollipop, his hand disappearing into a bowl filled with them, and he looks at you, eyebrows raised and expectant. "An 'incident'? What kind of incident?"

You start saying, "Oh, a fight—", only to be interrupted by:

"Spanner, who was at the door?"

You incline your head to glance behind you towards Shouichi. He's half way through yawning with his hand in his hair, glasses barely staying on his nose and standing there in boxers and a giant _Blood + Peppers_ tee-shirt. He's looking at Spanner and then he looks at you and his eyes widen and his cheeks flush. "S-Spanner," he chokes out, tugging his tee-shirt down further. "You could have warned me!"

"I thought you were sleeping," Spanner says, not looking at all sorry.

"Sorry, Shouichi," you say, chuckling. "I didn't mean to wake you~. Ah, should I call you Shouichi-san since you're Japanese?"

Shouichi looks like he might want to scream but instead he shuffles over and sits beside Spanner, somehow managing a face that's both irritated and nervous all at once. "It's fine, Byakuran-san, you don't have to," he says, glancing at Spanner.

You watch the way Spanner gives him a challenging glance back and you suppress a laugh. "Can I call you Shouchi-kun then~?"

He looks at with a confused sort of face, like he wasn't expecting that at all. "I-It's fine, really."

"Ah," you sigh, disappointed. "But I want to. Spanner too, it's kind of cute~."

Shouichi's cheeks burn red and he lets out a sigh and nods. "Fine then. What brings you here so early, Byakuran-san?"

"There was a fight," Spanner says absently, reaching for the remote.

"I'm hiding," you say, grinning wide.

Shouichi pins you down with a skeptical look, all suspicion and calculation. "Were you involved?"

Something clenches in your gut at his words; it's like you can imagine him saying this too, in another setting. Like it's nostalgic; an old memory on the tip of your subconscious, fighting its way out but not quite strong enough to do so. You blink slowly once and let your grin drop for only the briefest of moments before you smile sheepishly, the sudden wave of déjàvu knocking you off a little. "Ah, am I that obvious? Shouichi-kun saw right through me~."

Shouichi sighs an exasperated sigh and Spanner glances you with a blank expression. "Are we hiding you from the police Byakuran-san?" Shouichi finally asks, frowning.

You tap your chin thoughtfully. Truthfully, you hadn't really thought about Ryan pressing charges; some part of you had assumed he'd be too much of a coward to go to them. You still do. "I don't think so. I think I made Ryan pee his pants when I broke his arm, so I think he's too scared to go—"

"You broke his arm?" Shouichi cuts in, eyes wide. "Why on Earth would-"

"Shouichi," Spanner mutters, elbowing him. "Temper. You're not his mother."

You snicker at them and lean back against the couch, grinning once more. "It's fine, Spanner-kun~. He came in drunk and woke me up and accused me of defacing his books. He was very rude, you know~? So when he swung at me, I just defended myself~."

Spanner clicks his tongue and sort of grimaces and hunches forward slightly, almost like he's bracing for some kind of impact. When Shouichi's eyes narrow and his jaw sets, you realise that he is bracing for an impact. "Byakuran-san!" Shouichi begins and then he goes off on a tangent about the principles of the University and how breaking the arms of your peers is not something that is done and then he starts on how he will definitely not be housing fugitives in his house.

"I'm not a fugitive, Shouichi-kun~," you say, pouting. "I didn't kill him or anything."

Shouichi splutters and Spanner gives you a sympathetic look just before he starts up again. Despite the fact that you're getting a lecture off from someone you've known barely ten minutes, you can't help the smile that appears on your mouth. He's cute, you think.

* * *

In the weeks after that, you make a habit of visiting once a week and then twice a week, up until you spend most of your weekend there. It's strange, really. Both Spanner and Shouichi have nothing in common with you, but you have this feeling when you're with them that you can't quite explain. They make you feel comfortable, despite Spanner's apparent apathy for anything other than his work and Shouichi's blatant determination to be as awkward around you as possible.

Spanner sits in comfortable silence with you; answers all your questions about mechanics, about physics – about everything, up until one day he throws a jumpsuit at you and tells you if you're really interested, to watch and copy. You break their microwave and Spanner rebuilds it and you think it's a nice balance; you destroying things and Spanner showing you how to rebuild them from scratch.

There are times when you think Shouichi wants to talk to you and then there are times when you think he'd rather be in a different country. He's edgy and nervous in all the times he's not scolding you. You put it down to poor social skills at first, but then you see him with other people and start wonder just what on earth it is about you that sets him off.

"Shouichi's just weird," Spanner mutters one day, when you mention it. He has a screwdriver clenched between his teeth and his goggles over his eyes. "Just talk to him more, he'll get used to you eventually." He grunts quietly and you sneak a glance at him. He leans forwards and tilts his head to the side, all his concentration on what's in front of him, like you're not even in the room. His neck strains more to the side and you realize, absently, that laying there against his skin is a tattoo. You hadn't noticed before now and now that you have – you lick your lips and they tug upwards. Spanner, despite all his predictability in his apathy, somehow always manages to surprise you. His words ring in your ears still, however. _Just talk to him more_.

So you do just that.

* * *

It goes a bit like this:

Spanner spends one evening at the university workshop, working late on an assignment. Ryan's been out of hospital for a while now but just looking at him and his arm cast makes you feel nauseous, so you grab your jacket and head out. You know Shouichi is the only one home, but you think that maybe you'll finally get your chance to calm him down.

You hesitate pressing the buzzer, unsure if he'll even let you up. He does and when he meets you at the door you see his hand clench around it until his knuckles are white. You pretend you haven't, though, and smile and say, "Hello, Shouichi-kun."

Shouichi lets out a breath and pulls the door open more to let you step inside, "Hi, Byakuran-san," muttered as he rushes to the close the door. You glance at him out of the corner of eyes as you slip your shoes off and take in the way he runs his hand through his hair and how he looks around the room. "Sorry the place is messier than usual; I haven't had a chance to clear up."

"It's fine," you say, laughing easily. "It wouldn't feel the same if all this stuff wasn't here."

His cheeks flush and he nods, moving to sit down. "Did you need anything?"

"Mmm, not really." You sit down opposite him and shrug your jacket off and lay it down next to you. "I just wanted to come over. Ah, and since Spanner-kun isn't here, I thought I could finally corner you, Shouichi-kun."

He looks at you startled, all wide eyes and open mouthed. "E-excuse me?"

You smile sharply and lean forward. "Shouichi-kun always looks like he thinks I'm going to gobble him up," you say quietly. "And you always look anywhere but here." You tap just under your left eye and he sets his shoulders and looks at you in the eye defiantly.

"That's not-"

"Do I make you nervous, Shouichi-kun?"

Shouichi closes his mouth quickly and his shoulders sag, somewhat. "It's not that Byakuran," he says after a few moments. "I just- I just need some time to get used to you. You're not-"he hesitates here and runs his hand through his hair again. "You're not what I'm used to," he says finally.

You consider him quietly and let his words sink in. You lean back against the couch and nod once, absently. "That's ok then," you say and your voice sounds relieved, even to your own ears. "I thought that maybe you really just didn't like me, Shouichi-kun."

"That's not-"

You grin at him and cut him off. "I know. I'll take things slow, so that we can become good friends."

The only problem with that, however, is that you've never really known how to take things slow.

* * *

The house is quiet when you get back, save for a few of the seniors sitting around with beers. You look around with a neutral expression on your face and head into the kitchen, thankful that it's mostly empty. Empty save for the dark haired man leaning against the counter cradling a mug in his hand. Damian, you remind yourself smiling at him. He grins at you back and tucks his hair behind his ears -and you've always though there was something sly about this man and the way he looks at people.

"Were you out somewhere, Gesso?" he asks conversationally.

"At a friend's," you say back, dropping yourself into a seat at the table.

"Lovely," he says and you think there's a small amount of sarcasm behind his words. He watches you through narrowed eyes and keeps grinning until he finally says, "Listen Gesso, I have a proposition for you."

You rest your head in your hand glance at him. "Hmm?"

"We're both from family business, but I want to offer you a job with mine, after you graduate."

You blink once, suddenly feeling tired. How late is it, you wonder. "Is that so?"

He places his mug on the table and walks around, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's exactly up your metaphorical street, Gesso. If you're interested, let me know. Anytime."

"How vague," you murmur, smirking at him. "You haven't told me anything about it."

Damian's hand tightens on your shoulder. "That's a different conversation entirely, Gesso. The offer is there. It's up to you if you take it."

You glance at his hand with a blank expression before you smile to yourself. "I'll keep it in mind," you say absently. "Maybe it's time I move on, hm?"

Damian's hand slips off your shoulder and _he hasn't dropped that grin of his once_. "Move on?"

You glance at him and smirk. "Oh you know, from this and that."

He chuckles and moves to the door. "How vague," he retorts and then leaves you alone. You drum your fingers against your cheek gently and chuckle to yourself, staring at his mug with narrowed eyes and a smile barely on your face.

You're tired, but you're not sure of what.


End file.
